


What We Build

by HalfASlug



Category: Broadchurch
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-09
Updated: 2017-03-09
Packaged: 2018-10-01 14:29:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10192016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HalfASlug/pseuds/HalfASlug
Summary: Even in the darkest times, all it takes is a spark to set the whole thing alight.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written after s3e2 but takes place in the last episode of s3. Because if I write enough fic where both of them are alive at the end of the series then maybe, just maybe, they will be.  
> Opening contains references to the rape case but doesn't go into any detail. If you start at the paragraph that begins "He heard the door open..." then you'll skip that part.

Once a suspect was charged, it wasn’t unusual for Alec Hardy to return to the interrogation room. He’d sit, take a breath and close the file, hoping it would give him some degree of closure.

Most of the time it did.

That afternoon, as the burnt orange of the early sunset blared through the window, Hardy stared at Trish Winterman’s file and found he couldn’t close it. The words and pictures in front of him meant nothing as all he could focus on was the echoes of the interview he had just conducted.

He had heard many confessions in his time. Many for heinous crimes that sickened him for years afterwards. Never before had he been so close to losing all professionalism and simply beating the man in front of him until he stopped talking.

The talking hadn’t stopped though. Hardy sat and listened as unspeakable evil was described to him in detail with a calmness that chilled him. After nearly two hours, he had no idea if he was shaking through cold or fury. At one point, his grip on his cheap biro had splintered the plastic and Miller had placed her hand gently on his leg. A glance at her pale face reminded him he had a job to do.

Trish was depending on him. Everyone was depending on him. He had to keep it together or he would let them all down.

Her hand stayed there for the rest of the interview. By the time he turned the tape recorder off he was sure she had left a bruise.

A picture of one of Trish’s injuries caught his eye. Knowing how she sustained it made his eyes burn and throat swell.

He heard the door open behind him and swiped at his eyes as he jumped up from his chair.

It was Miller. It always was.

“Sorry,” she said. Her voice sounded rough and her eyes were red rimmed. It didn’t take a detective to work out what she had been doing in the ladies’ toilets after she’d excused herself from the debriefing.

“No, it’s fine.” Hardy cleared his throat, hoping it would make it easier to speak. “I was just… ”

Miller’s eyes flicked to the file behind him and she nodded in understanding as she crossed her arms. It made her look smaller than Hardy was used to. “At least it’s over now.”

He wasn’t sure if she was on about the interview or the case. Both of them knew they would have to relive the investigation in their reports and possibly even in court, but it was too much to think about with it still so raw.

Unsure of what else to do, Hardy sat back against the table. His ritual had never been interrupted before, but he found he didn’t mind Miller being there. After all, they had been through this together. She was as much a part of it as he was, even though his name would appear on all the paperwork and press releases.

“I just got off the phone to Fred,” she told him with a grin that was trying to reach her eyes. “He fed some ducks earlier. Thinks their all his pets now.”

“As long as he promises to take them for walks every day.”

Miller laughed but it sounded hollow and was over too soon. “It’s so strange. Listening to him go on about those bloody ducks. He has no idea about…”

Hardy knew what she was getting at but didn’t know how to respond. His natural pessimistic attitude reminded him that, one day, little Freddie’s world would be changed forever when he found out who his father was and what he had done. That cruel inevitability was a spec on the horizon now, but would soon be tomorrow.

She never let on that she did, but Hardy knew Miller thought about that day.

“Great minds think alike it seems. I called Daisy not ten minutes ago,” he explained.

_(“I… just need to tell you I love you.”_

_“Dad?”_

_“I know I don’t say it enough-”_

_“You say it all the time.”_

_“Aye, but I don’t… don’t show it enough.”_

_“What’s happened?”_

_“Nothing. Work stuff. I’m fine. Just… just wanted to check in, really.”_

_“Are you sure you’re okay?”)_

“How is she?”

“Well, she hasn’t adopted any ducks so that’s a relief.”

This time Miller’s chuckle sounded a little more like the real thing. Hardy felt a flicker of pride.

“Anyway, I only came to find you because I just spoke to Jenkinson,” Miller said, walking further into the room. “She’s said we can have the rest of the night off.” She held her hands up before he could respond. “I know what you’re going to say, but she’s volunteered to personally oversee the initial cleanup and press and-”

“Okay.”

“-there’s no point - _what?_ ”

Hardy shrugged. “If she does the all the initial paperwork then there’s nothing left to do that can’t wait until tomorrow.”

Miller blinked. “Fuck me, I wasn’t expecting that to be easy.”

“It’s mainly the statement to the press. I’ve always hated that part of the job.”

“Hadn’t noticed.”

“I’m tired, Miller.” Hardy sighed. “I just want to go home. Take Daisy out, maybe. Spoil her to try and make up for the last few weeks. Take her to that bloody Nando’s she loves.”

“I thought about taking the boys out on the boat,” chuckled Miller, scrunching her nose up in a way that made her seem younger somehow. “We haven’t been out on the water in ages.”

“Keep wee Fred away from the gulls, for God’s sake.”

This time, Miller laughed properly. It was most likely from a nervous build up of tension from the past couple of hours but it relaxed Hardy in a way he hadn’t realised he’d been waiting for.

“You know, I think all those silly old films are right,” she told him conspiratorially. “There really is nothing better than a hug from your kids.”

Since that night on his door step when they had realised what they were up against, every time Daisy was out of his sight, there was tightness in Hardy’s chest that didn’t loosen until he saw her again. Logically, he knew the chances that she would be attacked were miniscule but it didn’t stop his protective nature going into overdrive.

Knowing there was several feet of concrete and a set of handcuffs between the monster he’d been investigating and his little girl still wasn’t quite enough. He needed to see for himself.

“Nah, there’s nothing silly about that at all.”

Miller nodded and backed towards the door. She paused when she reached it.

“You’re going to come in early tomorrow to make up for tonight, aren’t you?”

“I’ll probably get here ten minutes after you,” Hardy said with a knowing smirk.

She fiddled with the door handle and hesitated before speaking again. “So we’ll finish around the same time?”

Hardy shrugged.

“It’s just… After all of this is done, I’ll need a drink.” She smiled self-consciously. “And Fred’s lost his fake ID so maybe you could - you know - come with? Could do us some good to socialise with someone our own age?”

The oh-so-casual way she fielded the question was undermined by the rabbit-caught-in-headlights look in her eyes. Every one of Hardy’s senses was working overtime, figuring out whether he was reading too much into a simple invite or not. It wasn’t the first time he had embarrassed himself that way.

This was bigger than those times though. This was Ellie Miller.

Doing his best to keep his expression neutral, he waited, looking desperately for one of her tells.

She held eye contact with him and kept her hands deliberately still. Hardy was on the verge of simply agreeing when he saw her shuffle her weight from foot to foot.

Miller was nervous.

She was one of the bravest people he had ever met and she was nervous.

It was enough to inspire him to hold his breath and take the plunge he had been putting off for months.

“Okay. Or we could - maybe - have dinner instead?”

Her eyes widened imperceptibly and Hardy could have sworn there wasn’t enough oxygen left in the room for both of them.

“Dinner?”

Hardy nodded, scared that if he replied verbally then he’d swallow his tongue.

“Oh.”

“Only if you-”

“Um, yeah.”

“We don’t have to-”

“Well, if you don’t-”

“I do, but if you-”

“No, I-”

“I only thought--”

“Fucking hell, Hardy!”

It was a rare occasion that Miller said exactly what he was thinking, but this was one of them.

“So… dinner?” he asked again, fearing if he said much else the whole thing would descend into an argument and them not being able to look at each other properly for at least three days.

Miller grinned shyly. “Okay.”

“Right.” Hardy tried to think of something else to say, but his command of the English language wasn’t what it usually was. Anything more than monosyllabic words were a herculean task.

She muttered something that sounded like goodbye and hurried from the room, leaving Hardy staring at the closed door and reliving every word they had just exchanged.

None of it felt real.

Unsure of what else to do, he stood up, hoping his legs worked given how numb they were, and wandered over to the frosted windows. He couldn’t see anything out of them, but it didn’t make a difference. All he could see was Miller’s parting expression in his mind’s eye and how close it had looked to one of hope.

Then again, she had scurried away without much of a second glance. What if, before he had even come to terms with asking her out, she regretted saying yes? He had half a mind to rush after her and cancel before she could do the same to him.

His fears were all but confirmed when the door reopened less than a minute later to reveal a tense Miller.

He braced himself for the impact. He had survived worse than this. Much worse.

So why did it feel like he was drowning?

“Hardy, I just-” Miller cleared her throat and tried again. “These past few weeks… ”

She closed her eyes and shook her head. Hardy could taste the rejection in the air and wondered when she became the sort of woman to cruelly prolong suffering.

However, once she opened her eyes, he hated himself for ever doubting the goodness that burned at the heart of Ellie Miller.

“I’m glad you came back.” She took a hesitant step towards him. “I never said it. But… well. Yeah.”

She nodded curtly, as though proud of herself for completing the task she had set out for herself and Hardy knew his gaze had involuntarily dropped to her mouth. It was just everything about her in that moment reminded him of why he held her in such high regard. Her strength, her kindness, her determination…

The fierceness she exhibited whenever she set her mind to something.

The same fierceness that was blazing in her eyes as she stepped towards him, went on her tip toes, gripping his hips to steady herself, and pressed her mouth to his.

His mind was blissfully blank, except for the sudden need to touch her skin to ensure she was really there. Hardy cupped her cheek in his hand, feeling the wisps of hair that had escaped her bun along the back of it. Too many times before, he had awoken to find he had never found the words and she had never taken the hint. That she never took his lower lip between both of hers.

The heat of her hands was burning him through his shirt as she slid them further under his suit jacket. Apart from that, there was very little movement, but Hardy was so overwhelmed by the tenderness that he was sure he would explode if it were any more intense.

Eventually, they broke apart. Both were breathless.

Hardy was transfixed by Miller’s face, searching for some indication that she was okay with this development. She, however, was staring at his mouth. He could practically hear her thoughts swirling inside her head.

“Bit weird,” she breathed, still holding him close.

“Wee bit.”

“Not in a _bad_ way though,” she added with a hint of a smile.

“No.”

“No?”

Hardy was reminded of the inferno that had tried to destroy this woman and how it had been no match for her. Forged within the flames, she had emerged burnt but not broken. Her uncertainty now, after so confidently turning his world on its axis, proved the scars were still there, but he was no longer too damaged himself to help.

He shook his head and tried to play it cool, but no force on Earth could have prevented his lopsided smile forming. “We probably just need to practise.”

Her giggle was cut off by him kissing her again. It wasn’t long before any laughter was replaced by moans as she pulled him closer to her. He almost overbalanced and end up pressing her against the wall with his hand protectively covering the back of her head. The thought occurred to him that if he could occupy the same space as her warmth then he would surely never feel cold again, but it was soon driven from his mind when he felt her gasp against mouth.

He wondered if she was clinging to him for the same reason. To feel something. To be reminded that there was still something other than evil in the world.

There was no telling how long the pair of them were wrapped around each other in the interrogation room but the natural light had left them when her hands slid up his chest to his face so she could gently pull away.

He stole one last kiss before standing back completely. The space made him remember there was a time before kissing Ellie Miller, where everything was uncertain.

Regret sank in as Hardy realised he had held nothing back. The way he felt, he might as well have been stood naked in front of her.

Miller took several deep breaths but said nothing.

Hardy swore he was going to blow his pacemaker if no one spoke.

His fears were realised when she backed away without a word. The walls were closing in on him but Hardy did nothing to alleviate the crushing sensation.

He was so caught up in his shock that it wasn’t until she cleared her throat from the doorway that Hardy realised that Miller hadn’t actually left.

“So...” she whispered into the dark. “Tomorrow?”

Flawed timing, ill health and terrible circumstances had always worked against Alec Hardy in the past. Time and time again, he rose from the ashes but never with much purpose, other than surviving until the next day.

Remembering what he had now planned for the next day, Hardy grinned and took note of Miller’s pink cheeks and coy smile.

“Aye,” he replied. “Tomorrow.”


End file.
